


Necessary Consent

by Luciel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciel/pseuds/Luciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's resolve to reject Lucifer wanes over time, but for what reasons? Lucifer's conviction remains: a tempted but unwilling true vessel is not a true vessel at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Consent

When he appears to Sam, he can see the cacophonous electric buzz in the human’s head, thoughts spinning around each other, brain saturated with fear and guilt and anxiety and temptation, reason and instinct at once at odds and complementing each other. Sam becomes a tangle of confusion in his perpetual state of “no,” and it would amuse Lucifer if he were not almost as conflicted as his unwilling companion. Both seem to be single-minded and unyielding, but the archangel more than the man knows that the thin vellum on which they have drawn their stubborn declarations barely veils their annoyingly pliant uncertainties. Both their gelatinous resolves shake with each roll of thunder from Sam’s overactive synaptic lightning, and the more the depths are disrupted the thinner the shell wears. Lucifer sometimes – _always_ wonders whose will tear first.

He could scratch at Sam’s paper mask with claws to speed the process, should he tire of gently caressing it with the pads of his angelic fingers. The mask would not shred, since Sam would not be Sam would not be _his_ if it would, but it would weaken, and thus less motion from below the surface would be enough to dissolve it. It is here that Lucifer, The Tempter of mankind, would profit from the temptation in Sam’s thoughts. That temptation could be nourished into life enough to pull a “yes” from the unending stream of “no” – one “yes” dragged from desperation theoretically enough for his purposes.

But the conviction remains in Lucifer: a tempted but unwilling true vessel is not a true vessel at all.

When he curls his fingers over his Vessel’s protective skin, uses a hint of nail, skims the surface with anything but patient tenderness, he feels the thinly-stretched membranes of _both_ their resolves abrade. He cannot coerce Sam without doubting the legitimacy of whatever small results he might obtain, and so he draws back. Returns to the sweet circles almost void of pressure. Soft words of choice, of fate, of family, of love pour from his lips and from the gyri of his fingerprints. There is no damage done to the surface of Sam’s self-protective layer this way. All the deterioration arises from below – ripples from his subconscious stirred by the indirect waves of Lucifer’s voice.

And though Lucifer can plainly see that he has caused no erosion, still he wonders. His own liquid doubt stirs and eats away at his confident mask. He wants Sam to accept him, he says; he wants Sam to accept him no matter the cost or the reason; he wants Sam to say the single syllable; Sam’s “yes” is the only necessity, he says. He writes it across his own paper surface. Sam does not touch the casing to Lucifer’s resolve; Sam does not know how. He has tried (“I will kill myself before letting you in,” insults, silence, “we’re not so bad”) but he does not know that Lucifer falters, or where.

“You need my consent.”

“Of course; I’m an angel.”

The smile he had given, as if he knew exactly how to evade Lucifer. The terror when he realized he was wrong; there was no escape, as if in a moment of weakness he would inevitably say the word and Lucifer would not hesitate.

Sam will say “yes,” not because of some arbitrary decision by Fate, not because of some trickery, but because his character and past and present demand it. Lucifer himself cannot force him, only compel him. Sam’s utterance of the word is inevitable.

Lucifer’s acceptance of the vessel offered to him is less certain. He wonders when in Sam’s presence and increasingly out of it whether a single affirmative after so many denials is really enough to negate history. He wants so badly to watch as the shield shreds itself and allows him to plunge into the depths of Sam’s mind, but if his hand caresses the shield when it finally breaks he worries that he will feel that he caused its destruction. And if he is responsible, then can it truly be consent?

And, when he is finally allowed to enter, what if his own resolve to take what should be his falters? What if he doubts long enough for Sam to speak another “no”? Once “yes” is given once, does the offer stand forever? He cannot believe that it. And if the moment is that short, how real could it have ever been?

So, uncertain how to proceed, he slowly withdraws his hand from Sam and watches only. Still he sees the confusion in Sam’s mind below the rejection. The sparks of doubt become clearer as the surface becomes transparent with wear even without Lucifer’s soft interventions. He waits in dreams, watching silently from across rooms. Sam stares back at him with increasing panic. Lucifer can tell that Sam is beginning to fear himself more than he fears Lucifer now. He would reach out to sooth him, but if this one action tore through what remains of Sam’s determination….

It is not in sleep that it finally happens, but in a barren and frosted room. Sam’s blood boils with intensity and demonic filth and his skin cannot insulate the room against his heat. Lucifer watches from across the room as ever, coated in ice, unwilling to advance too quickly. But Sam, rash, demon and human, speaks quickly.

“I want to say yes.”

Lucifer suddenly wishes that everything would _stop_. He has not so much as stroked Sam’s defenses, has not spoken a word to change them in what seems a painfully long time, but now that Sam has shown Lucifer the broken shreds of his stubborn refusal, Lucifer’s own cold resolve shatters. He cannot take what he is given; Sam is offering himself for reasons unrelated to what Lucifer promised him; this is not the ideal union of an archangel with his Vessel; Sam has said “yes” but Lucifer….

“Excuse me?”

It has been so long that Lucifer has been waiting quietly for the word but now that he has it he needs much longer still to consider and discuss it. He does what he can, pulls open the connection between himself and Sam that is usually accessed only while the human sleeps, communicates in this imperfect and intimate but _quick_ fashion right there in that waking space in front of Dean and demons. He voices words aloud and listens to spoken sounds while silently speaking urgently to Sam of his qualms, of the true reasons they should be made one, of Sam’s judgment, of his own. The confusion is different now: the overwhelming question of “if” is now replaced by “why” even within Sam, and Lucifer attempts to untangle the intricacies of his consent.

“I said yes,” Sam says wordlessly and with frustration as Lucifer watches him with hooded eyes in physical space and wide ones in their metaphysical meeting place. “That’s what you wanted.”

 “Sam…”

“It’s what you said you needed. I gave it to you!”

Is it the blood of demons or the fury of new resolve or the sting of disappointment that causes the sharpness in Sam’s voice?

“I…”

“You said you would never lie. Prove it.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Of course it is.”

Lucifer is losing time. The conversation in physical reality can only drag on for so long.

“Why?” he whispers.

“It doesn’t matter. I said yes. I’m handing you your ‘meat suit.’ Just take it!”

Lucifer pauses, though he does not have time to stop. “It matters.”

“Just take the win. I’m done. I don’t know if any of this is going to work, and it probably won’t, but I tried for Dean and everyone else. And now I just…please, Lucifer. Please.”

Suddenly, Lucifer sees that Sam’s excuses are a _new_ barrier, made not of resolve this time but of falsely simple motives. Being “done” is far from a desire to conquer an archangel’s will. He eagerly reaches for these new shells made of reason, unafraid of cracking these because below lies understanding and truth rather than instability and intimidation, slides his hands across the will to dominate, then the desire to be finished, observes as Sam’s psyche shivers under the renewed attention and the admission of it. Lucifer revels in the connection and buries his fingers deeper than necessary in Sam’s two given motives for consent, glad that he can do this even if he is unconvinced of the legitimacy of the acceptance if it comes from such sources.

And by perfect coincidence both corporeal and spiritual exchanges pull another “yes” from Sam at once, and another shell of motivation drops into his grasp as the word falls in a breathy and final admission from Sam’s lips. An admission, but _oh, sweet revelation,_ also a prayer and a plea, for the reason for this syllable is neither aggressive nor despairing but is _want_ for what Lucifer _wants_. Exposed at last is this heavily guarded secret longing for the binding of angel and vessel that Lucifer knew, knew, _knew_ could not only exist in him, _had_ to be and _is_ mutual! _The_ reason for union, the one that will allow perfection and lack of uncertainty even if Sam superficially resists, he knows that the offer will not be revoked now because this is not tenuous human logic but _nature_ and _desire_ and _Heaven_! He could do it now, leave this imperfect vessel for _Sam,_ finally his, but the increased speed of mental time has decreased that of reality, and Sam’s body is still only just starting the “e” of his acceptance, and how nice it is to be prayed to at last –

“Yes,” he murmurs, discarding the first and second reasons Sam gave to him and working through the last with patient efficacy and care. Sam’s manner cannot resume its harshness, and his appreciation inflates as he melts into the soft mental contact.

Sam’s words loosen beside his demeanor, his desperation excited unlike ever before, and voice filled with air and pleasure. “Please. I’ve – you’ve waited for so long, and you told me how to end the confusion. I know. Please. I see. Even if it were not this, now, I would. I still don’t know why, but I want you to. Please.”

“The only barrier now is your skull, Sam…”

“Then break my skull.”

His voice cracks and Lucifer smiles.

Sam’s “s” in Earth’s time nears its fateful end. Lucifer considers speaking reassurances of the ease of traversing physical walls, of praising him for his removal of psychological restraints, of verbally rewarding his understanding before providing the final mutual repayment, but if he remains silent he will have the dual memories of these two Sams’ simultaneous utterances, one simple and one joyfully sacrificial, and that is too beautiful to invade.

He withdraws from Sam’s mind for a single sentence before the blinding light of unity.


End file.
